


Wraps 'n' Things

by LA_Peach



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aliens, F/M, OC, OCs - Freeform, Original Character(s), Soft sex, Sweet Sex, goodship, goodship goodship, late night, meet cute, space, spaceship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 13:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LA_Peach/pseuds/LA_Peach
Summary: Comrade doesn't sleep well and runs into a fellow passenger/coworker on the Goodship Goodship. Turns out her skin feels so good against his own, very very sensitive skin.





	Wraps 'n' Things

**Author's Note:**

> This was a short story featuring my OC Comrade (who looks like a black cat with wraps all over his body, like a mummy) and my friend Dotchi13's OC, Heartsona (who is a plump cutie with no face and an exposed heart) 
> 
> I wasn't going to post these to Ao3, but I really have no where else to go where folks can see and (possible) enjoy them. I do have a bit more original stuff that I'll upload from time to time.

Comrade sighed. He didn’t sleep well these days. 

The ship cycled through a ‘day’ every thirty hours, pretty standard for working crews. But when the rest of the crew went to their beds at the end of the day, Comrade often stayed up or got up much earlier than the others. So it was that Comrade wandered into the cafeteria in the early hours of the ‘morning’, looking for something to eat and maybe trying to crash on one of its couches.

Once a sprawling room of long, cold benches over the years they had managed to transform it into a cosy den with a handy kitchen attached. Many of the tables had been removed to make way for comfortable couches and arm chairs, making a space where the crew could come together and relax after their shift together.

On one of the tables rested a shallow glass bowl. It was here that Comrade paused, slowly going through all of his wraps along his arms, legs, chest and face, pulling all manner of small objects from them and dropping them into the bowl.

It… well, people tried not to mention it. He wasn’t terribly sensitive about it really. It was just a quirk, a small habit that his race had somehow developed over the years. Mostly without his knowledge, his hands roamed. Picking up small objects and tucking them away. If you lost something, you came to Comrade first. He tried not to get upset over it and people tried their best to believe him if he said he didn’t have it.

Sometimes he did have it… he just didn’t know it. So the bowl had been set up and every morning Comrade went through the same routine of ‘emptying his pockets.’ Candies, a ring, small stones, a couple of useless coins, buttons and…ouch!

Comrade pulled a screw from his left arm wraps, accidentally scraping its pointed end across his flesh. Immediately it began weeping blood and throbbing. Cursing, he dropped the screw in the bowl and, one hand holding the scratch, tried to riffle through a bottom cupboard for some medicated aid strips.

“Oh, my!”

Comrade froze, he didn’t know anyone else was up so early. He had cursed rather loudly, he felt a bit bad about that.

He turned, scratch seeping blood from under his fingers and staining his wraps. Heartsona stood behind him, hands held close to her face and (somehow) looking concerned. They hadn’t spoken much even though they had worked together for some time. It wasn’t her fault. Comrade wasn’t always easy to get along with, what with his constantly moving, thieving hands. Heartsona was sweet and pure to the point that Comrade was sure somehow, it was all an act.

He put his ears back. “Oh, hey SonnnaaaaAAAA” he accidentally screamed (in a very, manly way, yes. That’s right) as she grabbed his arm to get a better look. He fell back against the cupboard door, cradling his arm in a very dignified way.

She snapped her hands back, looking shocked at her own actions. Immediately Comrade felt ashamed for that. It wasn’t that it hurt to touch his skin per say, but it was already aggravated from the tiny scratch and hurt more than it aught have. If she had grabbed him by his wraps, it would have felt like a normal touch.

“Oh, Gosh! Oh, Gosh, Comrade I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t mean to hurt you I-I just wanted to help!”

He propped himself up and stood as best he could from a sitting position. It was a bit awkward but he made it. He was taller than Sona by a head and she was standing so close to him, he had to look down to see her properly. She had her hands clutched in front of her, just over her heat, pleading. Whether it was to help him or for forgiveness he wasn’t so sure.

She smelled nice.

“Ugh, s-sorry.” She didn’t have eyes, didn’t have a face. Yet he could understand her expression just fine. Her hands un-clenched juuust a little bit. He lifted his hand a little, showing the bloody arm. “Just some sensitive skin.”

Starting once or twice, Sona reached out. Careful to put her hands on his wraps and not his flesh, she quietly guided him to a chair. The gesture was so honestly sweet, Comrade didn’t resist. He sat while she rooted through the cupboards, seeming to know where everything was. He certainly wouldn’t have found everything so quickly. He relaxed a bit as the blood finally began to slow and she dabbed at it with a cloth.

“Might as well help me get these wraps off.” He coughed into his fist. “They’re ruined now. I’ll have to replace them.”

“I don’t mean to pry,” She helpfully removed the leather brace from his mid-arm and pried the wraps from between his fingers, “but why do you need them? You’re skin looks all right.” The brown strips unravelled up to his shoulder, where different sized strips crossed around his chest and neck.

Comrade flexed his fingers a little, enjoying the feeling of the freedom. “Sensitive skin, really.” She cocked her head at him. “I mean, really sensitive skin. That was just a little scratch.” He winced a little as she applied some pressure to the wound, cleaning it out and stopping the blood flow. He wasn’t terribly sure how she’d managed to get it to stop so smoothly.

“Is it… a condition?”

Gees she asked a lot of questions. “No? It’s just typical.”

“Of what?”

“My species. Look would you just…” he held out his arm, blushing hard and looking in the opposite direction. He felt more than saw her smile. How she could get these things across he had no idea.

He tensed and scrunched his eyes shut, bracing for the feeling of the bandages. But he only found himself relaxing as her touch turned out to be incredibly gentle. Soon the pain even ceased. She wrapped his little scratch in the bandage and rested her hands on his arm.

It didn’t hurt. Her small hands were cool and actually felt… good. He looked at her. Maybe he was more sensitive about his species than he thought. He swallowed, uncomfortable with the problems he had been projecting onto her.

Sona ran her hands up his bare arm. It tickled, and he shuddered. Gosh, that was nice. It was few and far between to find someone who was gentle enough to touch him like that. She had gotten closer to him and he didn’t feel like pulling away. He found himself transfixed by that face. It was so… sincere.

Comrade wasn’t used to this. He was a bold lover even with his wraps, comfortable in taking the lead and initiating intimacy. Maybe he’d just been startled by her this morning, maybe he hadn’t anticipated the vulnerability of the scratch on his am.

Ah, screw it. He was thinking too much. He reached out that bare arm and caressed Sona’s cheek, as bold and clear a move as he could think to make right now. She accepted it, placing her pale, five fingered hand over his dark three finger one, caressing him. The touch spoke volumes, more than words could have. He pulled her closer and she didn’t resist, a pretty blush spreading across her cheeks.

Comrade fully expected the morning crew to burst in and foil their intimate moment. But their faces came together in a strange kiss, she began unwrapping other parts of him and still, they were left to their own devices. He pulled back, took her by the hands and led her to the nearest couch. There was no words, just understanding.

Sona was careful and tender, her small hands tickled him and he relished in the wonderful sensation he so rarely felt. She was just as bold as him, pulling at the wraps around his middle and exposing him while he hiked up her dress.

She did most of the work, hardly letting him even so much as arch his back. He lost all concept of time. All of the good sensations and feelings fogged his head until he swam in a sea of ecstasy. To a point that the end simply marked a stopping point, he hardly registered the orgasm itself. He was even less sure that Sona herself had finished, but seemed satisfied that he had.

He lay in the crock of her arms some time afterwards, unwilling to move and get his wraps back on, caressing her heart (which she seemed to enjoy.)  
“Hey um, sorry I snapped at you. I guess my skin isn’t the only thing that’s sensitive.”

She giggled, but seemed to be aware the moment was coming to an end. As the adrenaline faded and his passions cooled, Comrade’s skin was beginning to react to her clothes and the couch. She helped him up, helped him get his wraps around him again, even offered to help him find new ones for the bloodied ones he’d ruined earlier. She was so… helpful. Comrade couldn’t believe any of this was an act. If it was, he sort of hoped it never ended.

It turned out they still had another hour before the rest of the crew would start rousing for the day, so the two shared a quiet breakfast.

“How do you do that?” he asked around mouthfuls of some space cereal that shelved well but had little flavor.

“Do what?”

“This thing. Where you… talk. Without speaking.”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

He didn’t pry. “Hey, what were you doing up so early, anyway? It’s normal for me. I don’t sleep well.”

She blushed a little. “My bedroom door was missing a screw, it doesn’t close properly. I came looking for one.”

Comrade blushed so hard you could see I through his face wraps.


End file.
